Hard Things and Our Part

“And nobody wants to talk about the hard things.  The painful things.  The injustice.  The things which MUST make us uncomfortable enough, so that our hearts are stirred to do something about it!  Nobody talks.  Lord forbid we offend,” avows Adeye Salem. 

She’s right about it, about the hard.  You know.  The broken, the lonely, the fatherless, the unwanted, the dying, those suffering injustice, nobody wants to fully acknowledge it, not to the point we recognize our responsibility to respond.   Today, I'm sharing Adeye's blog as she's asked many of us to do in hopes that even one of these children will know the love of a family.

I dare you to look into the eyes of one of these children and really ask yourself what part you own in their story.  If not us, then whom?  Please, read.

For the Sake of Saving One- No Greater Joy Mom

Not Just for Fun

Friends, it's not just all family and fun around here.  Truth is, LoPa, the business we established to fund feeding and education in the community of Korah in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, is still plodding along.  So, between cooking, washing, feeding, cleaning, teaching, folding, cooking, feeding, dishes, reading, playing, dishes, feeding, washing, running, loving, feeding, folding, washing... (okay you get the picture) I'm still LoPa-ing.

Next week, you can join us in fighting poverty one sale at a time.  The sale of Ethiopian Art and Handmade Ethiopian Jewelry benefits the community of Korah, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  Here's the scoop:

September 19th and 20th
9:00 a.m.-7:00 p.m. (Come and Go)
5925 Brixworth Dr., Tyler, TX 75703

Click here for the 'official' invite, and enjoy a smattering of teasers below.

Ethiopian Leather Jewelry

One in a Series of 3 Pieces of Ethiopian Art by Zekiros

Multi-colored Oxen by Aklilu

Blein Floral by Abraham

Ethiopian Leather Jewelry

Four Months New

Four months.  Time has flown.  Four months ago last Saturday, our sweet trio entered our arms forever.  I keep asking, “What does four months mean?”

Four months means three children speak English, slang, and attempts to incorporate an East Texas drawl.  Four months means knock-knock jokes and bathroom humor at the dinner table.  Four months means more American than Habesha food.  Four months means red peppers, broccoli, spinach, chard, asparagus, Greek yogurt, kefir, and kale chips on our plates without a look of terror.  Four months means family time on the couch, card games on the den floor, throwing dice at the kitchen table, and ruling Wii Dance Party.  Four months means we swim, scooter, skate, tube, ride bikes, and shoot hoops.  Four months means cousins, grandparents, and friends.  Four months means we don’t want to speak Amharic or reference our roots too often (grieving that).  Four months means sibling spats and refusing to obey.  Four months means we know 4 scriptures.  Four months means new songs and stories from a far away land in a time before “we” were.  Four months means comfort.   

Four months means everything has changed.  Everything.  Yet it means so little when we know we have all of this life left together.   Embracing it all.